


Hints In The Subtle Sounds

by berlin420



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Casual Sex, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlin420/pseuds/berlin420
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker is a slutty, pretentious scholarship student who has a double major in photography and engineering (of all things). Thor Odinson is the quintessential poster boy for a closet case football jock with a superiority complex and too much money. </p><p>Until neither is really true, and suddenly their lives are pulled to one another and everything changes all at once and it's too much for pretty much everybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to see if I could actually write a Thor/Peter fanfiction, so this self-indulgent mess is going to be that.
> 
> Dedicated to Stephanie, who's been headcanoning these two with me since senior year of High School and finally convinced me to write this. 
> 
> Title from the Said the Whale song, Loveless which is the muse for this fic.

**Peter Parker's Rules For Getting Fucked Up and Fucked All In The Same Night ,**

_**Otherwise Known As The Rules of College**_

 

  1. weed or alcohol, never both (liquor is better for getting laid)

  2. always, always carry condoms and lube

  3. especially lube, not flavoured. fuck you if your lube has to be cherry flavoured, **WADE WILSON**

  4. flavoured condoms are okay

  5. tight jeans, loose sweater

  6. converse are hard to get off, use at own risk (docs are a+, though)

  7. never ever take shit from a stranger

  8. unless it looks fun, then go for it

  9. pre-drink, drink, and post-drink

  10. classes are irrelevant

  11. football guys for when you don't want to get looked at

  12. art kids for when you want to be told you're beautiful

  13. engineering students are always a pass

  14. except me

  15. your playlist for fucking should not include anything romantic

  16. get over your hangover in your own dorm

  17. PO-TA-TOES (soaks up alcohol, fucking science shit man)

  18. denny's is always open, _with potatoes_

  19. sleep forever

  20. get notes later

  21. and never, ever stay the next morning (or the night)

  22. never

  23. just fucking go

  24. don't stay

  25. especially not for beautiful blonde jocks

  26. fucking book it

  27. fuck




 

 

* * *

 

Peter Parker could remember very little of the night before; which was typical, something he had long since gotten used to and no longer really saw as much of a problem per say. Sometimes it was less fuzzy, images of dancing with pretty boys in tight jeans and Ramones t-shirts with hair longer than their shoulders came back into focus. Band members with ripped jeans and a habit of talking about music while he was trying to suck their dick; his type, people mocked him for it, but he didn't really have a type. Band members were for times when you wanted something a little more relaxed.

See, there was a boy for every occasion. A type for every feeling; a flavour, as they said, for any kind of craving he was having. Last night, it had been jocks; the particular animal of whom wanted to experiment on some thin little art student (Surprise! Peter wasn't one!) who wouldn't talk about it later while also having the experience to know to stretch themselves out properly first, prep their own bodies and let them use them the same way you would a girl.

Peter tried his best not to smirk when he was told he was tighter than any girl they had fucked, but really he was only one man.

Peter wasn't strictly speaking outwardly anyone's type; gawky with an attraction to sweaters with weird patterns on them, knitted disasters and relics from the 80s and 90s and moth-eaten donations straight from Grandpa's Estate Sale that he willingly put on his thin little body and paired with too-tight jeans and Doc Martens or whatever else that hardly spelled out Engineering Department; but yet his drawers were stacked with books, with thick textbooks outlining math and science principles and detailing whatever formulas and “science-y” crap that the boys he took home often baulked at before he had pushed them down, told them to shut up, and straddled their waist.

He was nobody's type; which was what made him such an excellent floater. Never with a boyfriend, always sticking with the flings and easily escaped moments that lead him able to take off without so much as a morning spent at Denny's soaking up his hangover from the night before; no, that was what his fellow engineering students were for, or Jessica Drew, or whoever else he could goad into a hangover cure of greasy food and coffee.

Or he had been.

Fucking jocks are never consistent. Which is their problem, but Peter had been expecting certain things by picking up... shit, Odinson? He glanced to the Letterman jacket with the name printed on the back and his stomach churned at the idea of knowing a conquests number, like he might cheer for them or wear his jacket or--

No, one night stand.

Shit Parker, get it together.

The fact was that Peter wanted two things from Thor; that was to be ignored, and fucked like a whore and maybe even told to leave that night. Neither of these things happened, in fact the opposite had happened. It had meant something, even if he fucking loathed admitting that even vaguely; but it had. Somewhere between talking at a party, maybe dancing he couldn't remember but he didn't remember the crazy strong hands on him, and getting back to dorm, his frenzied need to be treated badly had faded into something.

He was pretty sure it was called chemistry, but that was a gross misuse of the term.

Odinson's mouth had felt electric, and his hands had felt grounding, and somehow he ended up meeting his eyes the entire time and gripping on him and God help him, he might have fucking cried but he would never admit to something so absolutely disgusting. So that now, for a second in the moments before full consciousness, he was admiring just how _pretty_ the other man was. Just how ridiculously attractive he was and how badly he wanted to kiss him awake, how badly he wanted to stay and order pizza and wear his clothes that would be unquestionably too large for him, and just stay until he was forced to shower in his own dorm and Walk of Shame with the rest of them, at noon after pretending like it was something.

And maybe, just maybe, letting it be just that.

Jesus fuck Parker, snap out of it.

Instead, he did none of this; he pulled himself from his stupor and shook his head out; running a hand through the ridiculous mess of hair atop his head for a second, before disregarding it in trade for finding his clothes. How the fuck he ever lost his clothes like this, every single God damn time, he would never know.

Standing up, he retrieved his jeans and boxers from the same pile where he had stripped himself of them, slipping them on over his little waist as quickly as possible.

Maybe if he hurried, he could get out of there before he actually woke up.

“Fucking fuck fuck fuck.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! i hope to update this more regularly; i went with kate bishop as a female bestie because she's a queen and i thought her and my peter would get along. more chapters to come, super soon.

“I fucking hate you.” came Peter's dull, low voice from the table where his forehead was currently pressed against the cool surface to get some relief from the thrumming feeling inside of his temple. Somewhere, in what seemed to be a million miles away from him but was in fact only just beside him, came the voice of one Kate Bishop. 

Kate Bishop happened to be one of Peter's better friends; despite their different majors, their social circles seemed to draw around one another enough so that they could spend a significant amount of time around one another, and bitch about all the same people. It also happened that Kate Bishop was reigning Queen of the I Told You So's and seemed content on reminding Peter that she had, at some point last night, told him to slow down, and perhaps put down the bottle of mystery vodka he had found somewhere in the wreckage of the fraternity party. Even as Peter held it up as some glorious and amazing find of which had no comparison; the Holy Grail of stolen liquor, at least in that moment. 

Now, he bitterly thought of that moment as Kate's voice spoke up again. “No, you really, really don't hate me.” she commented, tossing her hair over her shoulder with the kind of entitled bullshit only owned by someone who didn't get a hangover after having had more than her fair share of shots. Considering her perfect waistline and muscle mass, he wasn't really sure where she stored the liquor she had, but it wasn't affecting her that morning. “You hate yourself, because you got too fucked up.” 

“And I fucked the wrong guy.” Peter added morosely, finally lifting his head from the table if only to rest his chin against the table, his eyes staring forward into the rest of the Denny's, over each of the tables and then coming back to focus on the coffee in front of him. 

“Peter,” Kate's voice turned a little more serious, as she looked down at him and away from the menu. For a moment, she seemed to consider her words, but then in typical Kate Bishop fashion, accepted them as quickly as she considered them and knew that anything coming from her lips was likely to be the right thing to say. “Is there a right guy for you?” 

“Hey!” he was defensive suddenly, his face squeezing together a bit. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

“That you'll fuck anything that moves, and everyone knows that.” Kate replied simply, and then stopped herself, covering her mouth as she laughed a little, and then raising her eyebrows as she turned to Peter once again. “Oh no sorry, you'll fuck anything that moves and has a dick. I forgot that part.” 

Perhaps, if they had a different sort of friendship Peter might have resented some of it; but the fact was that the brutal honesty was what their friendship had been based on in the first place, and he had grown rather fond of her brand of remarks and commentary. In fact, there was nobody he would rather be moping in the Denny's with, his cheek now pressed to the laminated surface of the menu and sticking to it's surface. The sight of pancakes slowly burning into his retina, as he yawned dramatically. 

“So,” Kate folded her hands on the table, a move which could only mean Peter was going to hate whatever her question was. “Are you going to blow off your plans with Wade, then? Run away with the strapping Th--” 

“Shh!” Peter's hand rushed to her mouth, his eyes wide and scanning her unimpressed expression for some sign of submission, before slowly pulling it away from her mouth. When it was away, her tongue followed his hand as her eyebrows stayed knit together in frustration. Still, Peter didn't relent. “We can't say his name out loud. It's like, too real. We'll call him... I don't know, Pancake. Yeah, I like Pancake.” 

“So are you going to run away with Pancake?” Kate asked, as she poured a sugar packet into her coffee, tapping the bottom of it quickly. 

“No, I'm not going to run away with Pancake.” Peter was exhausted by the conversation; all he wanted was his veggie burger, no cheese, so he could go back to his dorm and sleep off some of this hangover. His lecture would have to wait for the notes version, because there was no way he was going to sit in a lecture hall with a bunch of engineering students and listen to that for several hours. Not when his head was throbbing and his bed was calling to him. “And I'm not blowing off Wade. We have plans.” 

“Sleeping with your dealer is the stupidest thing I've ever heard.” Kate pointed out, stirring her coffee. 

“You're the stupidest thing I've ever heard.” Peter retorted with a pout, taking a drink of the black coffee in front of him; like most double majors, and one especially lacking in use, he liked to pretend he could stand the taste. Sometime during his first months, he had announced sugar was for losers and decided he wouldn't take it again. Now, he was standing by it and regretting every sip.

“Well Parker,” Kate's voice turned back to it's haughty tone. The one that spelled out trouble, and that only meant that Peter was about to receive some kind of lecture he didn't really want, but probably did actually need to hear. “When you're done trading sex for weed, you'll text me?” 

As she stood, Peter's eyes followed her. “No breakfast?” he asked, his eyes widening in horror. 

“Class, some of us go to it.” Kate pointed out. 

Peter slumped, his head going back to the table once again with some amount of resignation; knowing he was going to be eating alone nagged at him, but calling someone besides Kate just sounded depressing. Maybe, if he was a better student with less intelligence giving him enough slack in order to miss the majority of his classes and still ace the coursework, he too would be attending a class. Instead, he only intended on attending a vegan burger. 

“Fine, I'll text you.” he resigned. 

“And Peter?” Kate stopped, her hands going to the table as she leaned down to try and meet his eyes. “Don't do anything too stupid. Please?” 

“You got it, Kate.”


End file.
